


151

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [109]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Cain, Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Biting, Bottom Dean, M/M, Rough Sex, Rut Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 20:24:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6299077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now, don’t get him wrong. He was an equal opportunity kind of guy. He liked omegas, betas, alphas, males, females, other - every flavor of the rainbow. But he figured there must be some sort of wires crossed because when he went into a rut he never craved the submission of a sweet tempered omega, he wanted blood, he wanted a good, rough, violent dicking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	151

Dean had considered dragging his sorry ass in to work that morning. He wasn’t feeling too under the weather but he knew it was coming - achy in his bones and hot under his skin, itching for a fight. Usually, he was pretty good at controlling his temper pre-rut, but once it hit he needed to hole up, and a lot of the time it hit fast. So he played it safe and called off work.

After moping around his apartment for a few hours considering doing something productive, Dean felt a wave of nausea that sent him faceplanting on his couch. Pulse quickening, he took a shuddering breath and almost puked when he caught a whiff of the dumpster trash in the alley below his apartment, even through the closed window.

Yeah, it was a good thing he’d taken a few personal days.

Rummaging through the kitchen cupboards, Dean was happy to find tuna and peanut butter for quick protein, and moved his back up stash of Powerade to the fridge. The only thing he was lacking was liquor. There was beer in the fridge, of course, but that wasn’t going to cut it. Dean generally liked to spend his ruts humping every surface of his apartment in a drunk stupor.

Now, don’t get him wrong. He was an equal opportunity kind of guy. He liked omegas, betas, alphas, males, females, other - every flavor of the rainbow. But he figured there must be some sort of wires crossed because when he went into a rut he never craved the submission of a sweet tempered omega, he wanted blood, he wanted a good, rough, violent dicking.

Dean had made peace with this a long time ago.

He’s never met an alpha that could stand his smell and temper in a rut. One of his omega girlfriends, Anna, she would peg him through his rut but he usually wore her out in the first day and the smell was all off, it only irritated Dean.

So anymore, he calls off work, gets shit faced, and fucks every vaguely phallic object in his apartment while rutting against the walls/furniture/floor once he decides his toy stash is inadequate.

Fun times.

First, he needed liquor.

It was a turn of good fortune that a new liquor store had just opened up on the corner a few blocks down from his apartment. Dean knew better than to try driving in his rut. Road rage was never pretty, and a very Bad Idea for a rutting alpha.

Leaving his jacket inside, Dean let the sharp cold wind of early spring slap him the face, the bite of it clearing his head a little. Dragging his feet, shoulders hunched, it was only a few minutes to the liquor store simply titled ‘State Liquor’. There was a bell above the door when he pushed it open and the grating sound made him want to reach up and rip the thing off. Instead he shoved his fists in his pockets to keep them out of trouble and browsed the aisles of the unfamiliar store.

When he couldn’t find what he wanted, his frustration only climbed higher and his jaw was starting to hurt from clenching it. There were gross smells and noisy people and the fucking stupid carpet made this dry shushing noise that was pissing him off. Standing in the back of the store glaring at a shelf that didn’t have what he wanted, Dean took a long deep breath and tried to suppress his unreasonable anger.

A deep, rich smell pulled him out of his trance, reminiscent of camping trips and wood fires.

“Can I help you find something?”

Dean turned to find a guy about his height with loose shoulder length hair, graying, and cold blue eyes watching him. Hackles raising, Dean squared his shoulders back unconsciously in an aggressive display as a slew of insulting and inflammatory answers flashed through his mind.

He settled for, “Yeah, your mother’s phone number.”

Gods help him, he was an immature dick when he was in a rut.

The alpha in front of him looked supremely unimpressed. “She’s dead. Try again.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and put in a lot of effort not to snarl, “Sorry, uh, shit do you have Everclear 190?”

“No, only 151, it’s an aisle over.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the other alpha, “What the fuck kind of liquor store doesn’t have Everclear 190?”

“One that’s interested in keeping it’s license; that’s illegal to sell in this state.”

Rage spilling over, Dean turned and slammed his fist into the edge of the shelving. Bottles rattled and it hurt like a motherfucker but the pain shocked through him and Dean was ready to be a calm human being, buy the 151, and go home to jack off furiously while sniffing his shirt that hopefully now had a whiff of this alpha’s scent on him.

He was going to do it.

But then the guy stepped closer, into Dean’s personal space and within swinging range, scent turning hard with clear intent of threat when he said - “Sir, if you don’t calm down I’m going to have to ask you to vacate the premises.”

And Dean, well he made the brilliant decision – more like an instinct, reaction, but still, unjustified – and he hauled back fast and punched the alpha in the face. The guy didn’t react quick enough to block, took it square to the jaw and his head snapped to the side, but before Dean could draw back, his forearm was caught in a vice grip as the guy used his momentum to pull him forward and spin him, bringing his arm behind his back and shoving him against the shelf to pin him. The bottles rattled harder.

“Oh, shit.” Was Dean’s very perceptive reaction.

Gripping onto the shelf with his free hand, he had a few options. Twist out of the hold and leave. Snark back. Or option number three. Be an embarrassing, horny, hormonal train wreck and grind his ass back against the alpha he just taunted with a ‘yo mama’ insult and then punched.

Guess which option he picked?

The scent of ash and smoke thickened palpably. Mouth open, Dean panted, tasting it on the back of his tongue as the grip on his arm tightened, drawing a growl out of him when his arm was pulled hard enough for it hurt in the socket and he was shoved forward, hot breath against the back of his neck and the other alpha pressed against him. Dean could feel the alpha’s cock hardening and his pulse was running so fast his heart was beating overtime.

The other alpha’s voice had dipped lower when he leaned close, “Is it really a woman’s number you’re wanting now?”

Groaning, Dean ground his teeth together and leaned his head to the side exposing his neck dangerously, “Oooh, shit.”

Yeah, he was kind of a one track record sometimes.

“Castiel,” the guy called out.

An omega peered around the corner of the aisle, sickly saccharine scent all wrong and Dean snapped his teeth when he looked over to the dark haired blue eyed guy who didn’t speak, only glared at them.

Still pinning Dean to the shelf, the alpha continued, “Watch the register for me.”

The omega glared at them and shuffled away mumbling, “Don’t leave a stain on the couch.”

A rough hand gripped the back of Dean’s neck and squeezed, carrying him by the scruff like a pup and hauling him down the aisle. Dean squirmed and snarled, cock hard in his jeans and his ripe thick rut scent rolling off him his waves. He felt like he’d drown in his own smell, buried under overwhelming rage and lust.

The tall alpha opened a door besides the beer coolers and practically tossed Dean into the room. It looked like it served as break room and office, a desk and filing cabinets against one wall, small sink and kitchen table to the other side, ratty plain beige couch beside the door with a coffee table of glossy magazines. Without those hands on him or that low growl in his ear, Dean stood straight again and some of his aggressive stubbornness reared up.

“You think I’m the kind of alpha for backroom blow jobs, buddy, I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Cain. And you can leave if you want.”

Door still open, Cain moved away from it and leaned against the edge of the desk. Dean slammed the door shut, locked it, and stepped up toe to toe with Cain.

“Hi, I’m Dean, I’m an Aquarius, I like long walks on the beach, alpha cock, and my safe word is cherry pie.”

The heady wood smoke smell curled around him and Dean was fucking salivating he was so goddam horny.

Cain glared at him for a moment, Dean licked his lips, then strong hands were on his hips spinning him around and hefting him up onto the wide wood desk. Falling on his back, shoving a keyboard aside, Dean was yanked to the edge as Cain undid his buckle and ripped his jeans down. Fumbling, Dean managed to kick one boot off, pull his leg out, prop his socked foot on the desk and Cain was already on his knees shoving that soft beard between his thighs. Dean reached out to tangle his fingers in wavy hair and tug, moaning as he rolled his hips down, cock tapping against his belly and shirt rucked up around his waist.

Biting the inside of a thigh, Cain sucked a wet bruise into the skin and Dean cussed, legs clamping around his head. Cain smacked a hand on his thigh and pushed it wide, Dean’s leg bending more than it should, knee shoved to the desk and leg folded with foot on the edge, over stretch of muscle aching as Cain held him down and bite a line of marks up that thigh too.

“Fucking shit, easy on the teeth, fuck.”

Fucker growled at him, completely ignored his cock, cupped his balls and squeezed just on the wrong side of too hard and Christ Dean was going to go crazy but he was so desperate it was pathetic. Hadn’t met an alpha like this in fucking…. Ever. His cock was practically dripping pre-come.

Cain stood and smacked his spread thigh hard enough the sting lingered.

“Stay.”

Dean, panting, hauled his ass off the desk as soon as Cain walked around it, rummaging in one of the desk drawers for something. He straightened up with a little jar of Vaseline as Dean rounded the desk, shoving Cain back into the wood chair behind it and climbing on his lap. Dean’s jeans were still hanging off one ankle, one boot on and one sock on, his shirt sticking to the curve of his spine with sweat. Balling Cain’s shirt in his fists to have something to wring, Dean shoved his face into the crook of the alpha’s neck and inhaled.

Ah shit he was gonna get high on that smell. Rubbing himself against the guy, getting that smell all over his shirt, rutting his cock between their bellies and nipping at the skin of his neck roughly, Dean was torn between goading the guy into physical and violent retaliation, or just bending over to get fucked hard enough it’d hurt for days. Both were good options.

Cain circled a broad arm around his waist, slick fingers at his hole, two right away enough to sting as Dean moved his mouth down to the cotton shirt covered sweep of his shoulders and bite him through the fabric.

“Easy.”

Yeah, yeah. Fucker could leave bruises on his thighs, but told Dean ‘easy’. Dean still had some sense left in his stupid brain, even if most of the blood had moved south. Pushing up, Dean shoved back against Cain’s hand. His knot was already swelling, dark red and thick at the base. Pawing at Cain’s jeans, he pulled the alpha’s cock out, hot and silky under his hand Dean couldn’t help relishing a few long strokes, rubbing his thumb over the head smearing a bead of pre-come. Bringing his thumb to his lips, Dean sucked it into his mouth.

Underneath him, Cain’s pupils were so wide there was barely any blue left, cheeks flushed ruddy, chest heaving under his shirt. Dean sucked on his thumb, bitter taste enticing, other hand braced on Cain’s arm and he was solid muscle.

Lips parted over white teeth, Cain snarled and hauled Dean off his lap, turning him to bend over the desk chest to cold wood through his shirt. Bowed thighs parted easy, Dean rocking up on his toes and pushing his ass out, braced on his elbows. Cain’s warm hand settled on an ass cheek, pulling it wide and squeezing, length of his cock smearing in the Vaseline glide of Dean’s ass crack before thrusting in deep and knocking Dean forward. Cain didn’t wait, didn’t soothe, didn’t ease in, he ground his hips once against Dean’s ass before pulling out and starting a vicious pace.

Cussing incoherent and breathy, Dean pushed back a few times before the hard heavy force of Cain slamming into him was too much and he dropped against the desk limply. Rough fingers dragged over his hip and curled under his waist, hauling him up against the forceful snap of Cain’s hips. Another hand slid up his back, palm brushing his shirt up and the skin to skin of his flushed body had Dean writhing back, Cain’s hand finally setting between his shoulder blades and pinning him. All Cain’s weight leaned into Dean’s body at his hips and between his shoulders, heavy and powerful and brutal.

Face smashed to the desk, Dean worked an arm underneath himself and got a hand around his cock, stripping it fervently as Cain curled over him and nosed at his nape. Dean started shivering uncontrollably, furious alpha instinct tensing his muscles and whipping his blood to a boil, while he rode that keen edge and stretched his neck in a submissive quiet plea. Blood bites were definitely a Bad Idea. He tried to remind himself but all he ached for was teeth and pain, for release. The deep stretch of cock in his ass had Dean cross eyed on the fading pulse of initial penetration that escalated too quick to hot tight arousal ready to bust his seams.

Wrapping his fingers tight around the bulb of his knot and squeezing painfully, Dean grunted and grit his teeth, slap of skin obscene, sweat dripping, drool pooling under his cheek. Perception narrowed to hyper focus on every point of contact between their bodies. Cain’s beard on his neck, breath hot along his ear, tongue dragged over exposed skin, teeth sharp sinking into tender flesh and Dean was coming so hard the whole world tilted.

Before Cain could rip his alpha ass open on a knot it wasn’t meant to take, he was pulling out and Dean felt a hot wet splash across his lower back and ass, dripping down, at the tops of his thighs. Cain still held him with a hand at his nape, deep bite throbbing, alpha cock spending a hell of a lot of seed on a fruitless venture. Dean gasped down shuddering breaths, his own cock still pulsing - Christ this desk was going to be ruined - pins and needles in his arm trapped under his body, legs cramping.

Cain pulled back with a groan, and Dean pushed up on shaky arms. He felt hollowed out, all his aggression and anger drained like so much steam, if he were a pot he’d be burned useless. Laughing at how many times he’d burned a goddam pot on the stove, Dean fell back in to the chair when Cain moved aside fixing up his pants. Jeans still around one ankle, sock gone missing somewhere, Dean gingerly felt the bite at his neck. He was strangely disappointed when his fingers didn’t come away bloody.

Crinkling his nose at the astringent smell of Lysol wipes, Dean curled his lips and scraped the chair over the floor, farther away from the desk that Cain was wiping down with those disposal, godawful smelling things. It was a lost cause anyway.

Dean, still brain dead and half naked, was sprawled in the chair when Cain pressed a cool water bottle from the break room fridge into his hand.

“Drink.”

Grunting, Dean twisted off the cap and gulped half the bottle in a second.

Cain had found his missing sock under the desk, dropping it in his lap, kicking his other boot towards him.

“Shit.”

Was all Dean had to say.

“Are you going to make it home safely? You didn’t drive did you?”

“No, no, I uh….” Finishing the last of the water, Dean bent forward to a chorus of screaming sore muscles, “I live in an apartment few blocks from here.”

“Hm.”

Was all Cain had to say.

Hm.

Standing up wobbly, Dean got his pants back on, shirt glued to him with sweat and come, then shoved his foot in his boot. Untied. Didn’t feel like bending over. Wasn’t sure if he could, and get back up.

With a put upon sigh, Cain knelt in front of him and tied his boot before standing and buckling his belt. Dean had forgotten that.

Fuck, his eyes were really blue.

Toe to toe, close enough to feel Cain’s breath, Dean swayed forward and looped an arm over his shoulder to pull him in, indulging in a stupid hazy kiss. Humming contentedly when Cain licked into his mouth, Dean nodded and patted his – broad, firm – chest.

“Yep. You should really come home with me and let me ride your cock until I pass out.”

One eyebrow lifted, Cain pursed his lips. “I get off work at six.”

“You know those fugly red brick complexes, I’m in the Murphy building, apartment 4C.”

“Hm.”

Hm. Again. Asshole. With a cocky grin, Dean took his leave. He smelled like burnt embers and musk and sweat. Yeah, he’d be rolling around in these clothes jerking off before six.

Picking up a bottle of Everclear 151, Dean made his way to the counter where that omega Castiel sat looking highly unamused. Possibly traumatized. Nah, just judgemental. Dean paid for his liquor and gave a two finger salute.

“Thanks for playing lookout, buddy.”


End file.
